“I-It’s just been so long. Sometimes I wonder if she ever thinks about me anymore.” The creature leaned towards the man, its skin crinkling. A few scales refracted the harsh light of the containment cell as they drifted to the floor. It slowly raised its left arm and cupped its hand to the side of its oxygen mask. “Sometimes, I think what they tell me, that she’s okay, I don’t think it’s true,” it whispered, barely audible over the hum of the life-support machine.
The man sitting opposite grinned. “Why, you were the most important thing in the world to her! Of course she wouldn’t have forgotten about you!” he said. His voice echoed across the walls of the small cell.
“You used the past tense. You didn't really answer me. Besides, if she still thought about me, would I be so… this?” the creature slowly swept an arm over itself. Much of its skin was gone, revealing half-formed organs made of dragonfly wings. Its legs were nothing but stumps, and the left side of its face was mostly non-existent, save for the area around the flower it had for a eye.
“Oh come now, that’s no attitude to have! If she’d forgotten you, would she have made this?” The man revealed a folded piece of paper and opened it on the table between them. It was a crayon drawing of a girl and a man holding hands. The man was covered in what looked like scales and had flowers for eyes. Both of them were smiling under the crudely written words “SUZY + BEST FRIEND.”
The creature looked up from the paper, tears in its functioning eye. “Thank…” It saw that the man had vanished “…you?”
An orderly burst into the containment cell. “SCP-1252, are you alright!? We- I don’t know what happened. We were with you, and then we, uh we were outside. What happened? Are you okay?”
The creature hugged the drawing to its partially formed chest, causing several butterfly scales to drift lazily to the floor. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” it said.
Adam sang to himself as he sawed the beam. “Que el mundo fue y será…” he began. Suddenly, the saw slipped, and he cried out, more from shock than pain, as it sliced into his finger. A split second later, the wound began to gush blood. “Fuck!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he patted himself down, hoping to find a kerchief, or even just a band-aid. Nothing. He squeezed the finger into his armpit, feeling the blood soak through the fabric of the shirt. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck this house, fuck this city, fuck you Louisa, fuck fuck fuck!” Adam shouted as he ran from dilapidated room to dilapidated room, trying to find something to staunch the bleeding.
He saw a man leaving the pantry, the same one who had been snooping around the place before. “Hey, asshole!” he shouted at the intruder, “Get out of my house or I’m calling the cops!” The man gave a guilty smile and stepped around a corner. Adam followed him around the corner, only to find that the man seemed to have disappeared. “Weirdo,” Adam muttered as he entered the pantry.
Sitting on the shelf was a roll of gauze and a can of something called “Plum Pudding.” Next to it was a note card reading “Feliz Navidad” in thin, neat letters.
“I’m Jewish,” Adam muttered. He stared at the gauze for a moment. "Eh, screw it," he said as he took the gauze and began to wrap it around his wounded finger. Before leaving the pantry, he grabbed the can of “Plum Pudding.”
The boy in the Boy Scout outfit paced back and forth in the blank room. He must have been in here for at least a year. The last thing he remembered was crossing the street holding Mr. Noah. Then the sound of tires squealing, then an impact. Then nothing. He obviously wasn’t dead, he decided, because he was obviously alive. Still, he didn’t recognize anything, and, more importantly, there was no more Mr. Noah.
"Hello there," came a voice behind him. The boy turned to see a man standing in what had been an empty spot a few seconds ago. "It seems like you're missing something. Mr. Noah, right?"
The boy tried to respond, but found that he couldn't speak. He tried a few more times to vocalize, but finally nodded.
The man smiled. "I don't think I can get Mr. Noah back for you, but I can find you some friends. Children like you, who can understand you. Perhaps you could make a new doll, one just like Mr. Noah. Does that sound good to you?"
The idea of replacing of Mr. Noah seemed horrifying, almost laughable, to the boy. But it wasn't as though there was any way to find Mr. Noah in this room. Besides, the man's offer of friends intrigued him. He had never had friends before, at least ones that weren't stuffed animals. The boy nodded again. The man smiled.
"Very good, then. Please, follow me," the man said. He opened a door that had not been there a moment ago, and passed through it. The boy followed. As he passed over the threshold, he found himself wearing an owl mask. "Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention the mask. I wouldn't worry about it, though, all of the other children have them as well," the man said, motioning around the room. It was then that the boy looked around and realized that there were other children, also with masks, all around the room.
They didn't say anything, but he could hear them just the same. Do you like dollies? they asked, what was your dolly's name? What happened to you? What kinds of dollies do you like to make? My name's Zach, my name's Sarah, my name's Nikolai, my name's…
The voices flooded the boy's head, but he was not afraid. For the first time in a long time, he knew he was not alone. He turned to thank the man, but saw that he was gone.
A note to all Foundation personnel: Yesterday, 12/25/20██, containment for several SCP artifacts, including 1252, 1551, and 747 was breached. In all instances where the SCP object has been capable of speech, the effector of the breach was described as “a kind man.” While the breaches were not in and of themselves, severe, the fact that a single individual, apparently acting alone, has proven capable of bypassing all security measures, and has chosen to do so on a day as significant as yesterday, should be troubling to all Foundation employees.
To be clear: as there has been no indication of negligence on the part of Foundation employees, no one is being punished for this incident. This is only a reminder that, despite however human SCP objects may appear, we are still interacting with entities far beyond our ability to comprehend. It should go without saying that all Foundation personnel, of all levels, must maintain absolute vigilance at all times.